


Shards: Clarity

by everycoinhastwosides



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Angels, Angst, Blood, Complete, Dark, Demons, God - Freeform, Graphic, Hell!Dean, Horror, M/M, Oral Sex, Punishment, Rape, Slash, Torture, Unrequited Love, Violence, Wings, a vanishing heaven, alcohol use, castiel being humanised, humanity as punishment, magic changing feelings, rough times, spell, underlying feelings, wing!kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-28
Updated: 2013-02-03
Packaged: 2017-11-27 08:10:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 20,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/659755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/everycoinhastwosides/pseuds/everycoinhastwosides
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'Yes, clarity had shown me that shards are all that are left. Unrequited pieces of truth that Dean will never know. This love, locked up now until time ceases to exist, is a shard of my own; one to hold and keep close no matter how deep it cuts me. A reminder that the love for Father is worth everything'. </p><p>A punishment far greater than Castiel could have even imagined is upon him. But when one is truly broken, a moment of clarity always speaks the truth. Very dark, Destiel, with wings and violence and nothing either of them ever asked for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> This is a complete work, with one chapter being posted every day this week, totalling seven chapters.
> 
> I do not have a beta so all mistakes belong to me. I do not own Supernatural... obviously.
> 
> This is my first Supernatural fic. Feedback would be very much appreciated. Thanks for reading!

Dean lay back whilst Sam finished exorcising the demon in the centre, but as it left, the body slumped, already two shades past its expiration date. 'Great', Dean thought bitterly, 'another meat suit to burn'. There was a pain in his side, crawling gingerly up each rib, initial numbness giving way to hurt. Sam was already there, arm outstretched to help him up, as always. On his feet, Dean felt woozy, dizziness soaring over him like the room was a tidal wave and every wall seemed to hit him like a ton of bricks without moving. Sam kept an arm around him, a familiar frown creasing his brow.

“You alright?” The genuine concern in his voice was always what gave the real Sam away. In the past whenever he had been used by demon a, b or c, the cold clinical aura that he had given off always gave him away. His brother was, in a single word, understanding, even in times when Dean couldn't give a fuck. 

“Dude, just get us back to the motel already. Smells like piss down here.”

-=-

It was a good few hours before Dean woke up again, and jumped out of his bones to see a face looming over his, two deep blue eyes staring intensely into his and didn't need two guesses to know who it was. There was only one person who had that 'inner soul stare': the one that made you feel like shrink wrap, see through and exposed, like a nerve just waiting to be touched. 

“Cas dude, mind giving a guy a little space?”

The angel stepped back, respecting his wishes but not even blinking. “You should rest now Dean.” He didn't say anything more, but there was something hanging in the air that Dean couldn't place. Something left unsaid, like something had happened and Cas wasn't telling. For a moment, Dean considered asking him before having to reprimand himself. Cas didn't tell unless he wanted Dean to know something. The hunter had enough trust in the divine dude to step back and know that if Cas needed to let him know something, if there was something important he really needed to know, then he had faith that Castiel would inform him. Funny how he showed more loyalty to Cas than he had even entertained about God. But of course, he wouldn't let Cas know that.

“Thanks Cas.” The awkward air continued, the intensity of the stare growing, Dean cocking his head. “You got something to say?”

His gaze shifted then, the blue in his eyes becoming darker as he turned away. “No.” He looked at Dean from the corner of his eye. “Take care Dean.”

And he was gone, just like that; the fluttering of invisible shadowy wings filling the quiet, the intensity fading away to a growing instinct in Dean's gut. He knew something wasn't right.

-=-

Castiel materialised in his garden, his heaven, only to find someone already there – standing amongst his grass and his perception. Balthazar waved his hands in his 'could care less' fashion. 

“Cassie, Cassie. Home at last.”

“It's Castiel.” Although his words suggested he was annoyed, he couldn't be, not at his Brother. “Why are you here?” 

“I just though that I'd check in with my favourite Brother... you know how it is.” A playful hint of smile played about his lips. “How are the Winchesters?”

“Good.” Castiel said shortly. His words said one thing, his tone said another. Although he always looked as if he was hiding something, he looked uncomfortable. Thoughts dripped from his mind but couldn't quite find his lips. Instead, they hung there with deafening uncertainty. Balthazar knew him better than just about anyone. He also knew how good Castiel was at not letting anything slip. 

“So, how does it feel?”

Castiel looked on him with all the force of an Angel but a hidden something drilled a light into his usually dark blue eyes and gave away something not angelic at all. Something different about him. Something Balthazar knew he was carrying, but didn't dare bring up until now. There was an elephant in the room, well, garden, making it's way between both of their sights and covering everything with the stink of awkward.

“I know of your punishment.” 

Castiel wasn't surprised. Balthazar might act like he didn't care about anything but he knew a lot more than he let on. He had a habit of finding out what he shouldn't know. Keeping hold of memories that he could use later was something he was good at. He played at being the 'lover' instead of the fighter, but truth in truth, he didn't even need to fight because he usually had some rogue info that he could use to his advantage to skip out of tight spots. No, Castiel was not surprised at all.

“It's like being torn.” The smaller Angel's voice didn't waver. Every syllable was adamant. 

Balthazar actually laughed. “I believe that's what they call being human.”

Castiel didn't reply. He had nothing to say. Of course, he was an Angel. Being human wasn't his punishment. But in his rebellion, and his belief in freedom that he has learned almost solely from Dean Winchester, he had lost his Angelic objectivity, becoming attached to the Winchesters more than he should. Putting them before the greater good. His Father had punished him, and punished him well, a cleverly chosen punishment because it wasn't an outside affliction. God hadn't simply cast him down to Earth as an exile to walk amongst the mortals. Instead, he had cursed him. Almost like he had cursed his soul, but of course, Angels didn't have souls. But these feelings, this conscience he had developed weighed on him heavier than a thousand souls. He could feel. Every emotion in the human spectrum, he felt. He was learning to recognise them. Anger, pity, confusion. Apparently there was more, but on the happiness and contentment side of the spectrum, he was blind sighted by hurt. How could his Father do this to him? But then, of course, the Almighty was capable of true mercy. Especially to the Angels who had a connection with humans. In this moment of compassion, he had told his son that this was not permanent, but that he would 'know his moment of punishment with the greatest clarity'.

When he turned to face Balthazar, the Angel had vanished. He stood alone in his heaven, in his own little corner of the world and felt something rising inside of him. Something that he tried his hardest to fight before realising that you couldn't fight emotion. Between the clouds skating the summer sky and the twitter of insects dousing themselves in the flowers, Castiel thought for a moment that this was contentment. He would say that he could stay here forever, but he knew that wasn't an option and wasn't one to fantasise. He knew the moment he was needed on earth, he would be there. It gave him purpose. For the moment, he had been ceased of all duties in order to fully realise his recent state. He had nothing to do. Instead of waiting in his garden, he knew somewhere where he could make a difference. Perhaps.

-=-

“Get a move on Sammy! This thing aint gonna nuke itself!” Dean was hauling bags into the trunk of the car with no grace whatsoever. As the lid went down, Castiel's face came into view.

“Jeeze Cas. Lil' warning would be nice.”

“I am... sorry”, he replied, almost tasting the word on his tongue. In that moment, alone in the salvage yard with Dean, he wanted to tell him of his predicament, but what would that really achieve? There was nothing that either of the Winchesters could do; nothing anyone could do: This was God's work. No one changed God's hand.

“What, no Heaven's orders?” Dean cocked his head, a bead of sweat dripping down listlessly through the hair by his ear. Funny how being an Angel, Castiel noticed the smallest things and knew what they meant. Sweating meant labour, which he suspected was the case here, but he knew that it could also mean fear or anger. That wasn't the funny thing though. The most funny thing was that Angels could not appreciate the tiny details they noticed because they didn't feel at all. The empathy that God had instilled in him allowed him to understand that Dean was probably tired from lifting. He stooped to touch the rest of the kit and disappeared for a millisecond, having packed them away in the foot well of the back seat, sighing a little when the move took more out of him than was natural. When Dean gave him a quizzical look, Cas explained himself followed by, “I have come to help you with your hunts Dean.”

“Wait, what?” Dean seemed more pleasantly surprised than annoyed, to which something new flooded over Castiel in a wave of humanity, his mind taking a few seconds to ascertain that this must be relief. He did not want his friend to be angry at him, and he assumed that was only human. He had been watching humans confront, and avoid confronting each other for years upon years. So much time watching human nature allowed him to know which emotion he was feeling. It made it less scary, less wrought with conflict.

“You mean Smitey McSmiteson's gonna come down and join Ghostbusters?”

Cas tilted his head, brow furrowed in confusion. “I do not understand...” He started, but Dean clapped a hand on his shoulder. 

“Awesome dude. Just, awesome.”

Castiel did not like the car at all. It was small and cramped. Though he did like the smell. All of his senses were associating the little things to his memories. The smell of whiskey and oil reminded him of Bobby's place, but the smell in here, the warm smell of leather and musky too, with a faint tinge of gunpowder. It was spicy and different and he couldn't help but like it. Dean's jacket smelled the exact same way. Except with a little more liquor stink, naturally. 

“What are we hunting?” Cas' voice was low, trademark gravel sliding out in rocky tones. He caught Dean's eyes through the rear view mirror, but the gaze didn't last; Dean was driving after all.

“Demons. Load'sa omens kicking down in New York. Heard from a couple of Bobby's pals that there's a big group, so uh...” He looked again, catching that intense stare but Dean's eyes were smiling. “Yeah, glad you could join us really.”

Cas felt something else wash over him then. He considered the words that Dean has used, still looking at his unaware profile in the mirror. 'Glad'. Dean was glad he came along. Did he feel 'glad'? Was this what he was feeling? Or maybe... maybe it was acceptance? Acceptance that he was going hunting? Not so much. More like he'd become a little piece of the puzzle that could slot into place. Cas found himself wanting to change his face, and it happened without much though. The corners of his lips curled and he gave a little smile to himself, sat amidst the gear on the back seat and lowered his eyes. Yes. Acceptance, he decided, was a good emotion.

-=-

“Idiots”, Dean scoffed in his usual over confident manner, “Didn't even Angel proof it up. Guess they had no idea we'd be bringing Heaven's Tax Accountant along for the ride.”

Cas stared at him. “Tax accountant?” Dean dismissed him with a wave of his hand. He was peering into the building through a large pair of binoculars and mulling over strategy. Meanwhile, Castiel, ever the impatient one, was contemplating merely zapping in there and taking them out before either of the Winchesters could realise, but he didn't want to take their victory away from them.

So, it all went to Dean's plan. Sam went to take out the lookouts with the knife, and Dean went with Cas to one of the side doors. Dean got to his knees to pick the low bearing lock and stopped when he heard a long drawn out sigh.

“Cas?”

The Angel brushed him aside slightly to open the lock himself. Patience was a virtue that he never really favoured, but he found that his human side was making it worse. 

Dean on the other hand, felt something much larger push him aside. He knew Cas had the power of an Angel, but he felt something brush past him and it sent shivers down his spine. He cast the thought aside when he heard the door click open and Cas took the lead. Something about that felt wrong, and the weather added further misery as a bolt of lightning cracked and the sky opened. The hunter ducked in after him, out of the rain.

Same old monster, same old run down abandoned hide out. Dean was quickly noticing a theme here, and he thought for one moment that it was just to deliberately piss him off. The first demon hadn't noticed them, Dean swung up his weapon but Castiel blocked his view, exorcising with a single touch. Sometimes Dean forgot his power, since they were friends. It was easy to forget Cas was an Angel, he wasn't exactly the robes and harp kinda guy, but when their eyes met, and Dean's soul lurched within at the stare, he felt Cas' power like a lightning bolt and appreciated the fact that although Cas could smite him where he stood, he chose his side to help him out instead. Like a wingman. With the exception of Sam and Bobby, the Angel was the closest friend Dean had. A small part of that made him slow down in his steps. There was nothing connecting him to any of these people except madness and monsters. He didn't even talk to Sam when he was at Stanford, and as much as he hated to admit it, but if Sam hadn't left and was still 'lawyering it up', they probably wouldn't be talking now. Bobby raised them as hunters and helped them with more or less every case they took on, and Cas... well. Cas was a celestial being and although he was almost socially retarded and had unrivalled family issues, he had the mojo that usually saved the day. Or them.

Castiel stopped dead in his tracks while Dean was lost in his thoughts and the hunter bumped into him, feeling a strength unmatched move against him and Cas turned. Dean waved his hands as if to say, 'What? Get a move on already!' Passing Cas he came to the main door, knowing the demons were inside. His hand reached into his jacket for holy water and he popped the lid, his other hand raising his gun. He braced for the impact and kicked the door with all the force he could muster. Six pairs of black eyes blinked back at him and the rest happened so fast that for a moment, Dean was lost in chaos. Sam came through the door and took out two with the dagger, one of them with a chest full of rock salt before the older brother lunged at one of the demons before she had time to react and managed to slam the force of his fist against her face before she kicked out, his weapon flying and Dean scrabbling to get it back before she pinned him against the wall, throat in steely hands, his feet inches from the floor when he closed his eyes to a fiery light. Before it burnt out and faded, he felt something hot in those fingers clutching his neck, like a branding on his skin, something shifting inside of him, something red rising to his surface, something he tried to shuck off violently. Opening his eyes, the girl had dropped to the floor, Cas' hand returning to his side, an expression on his face that Dean had never seen before. 

“Thanks man. You okay?”

The Angel appeared to put his thoughts back into check before he nodded. After a look around the floor to the bodies he'd exorcised, he found that none of them were still alive and yet another rush of uncontrollable emotion swept over him. Loss. Guilt, maybe? No, not guilt. He could not have known that these people had been dead for some time. He might have found the nest earlier if he had joined the hunt sooner, but that was a slim possibility. No, not guilt, but loss. The fact that at least nine people lay around the building and there was nothing they could do to prevent that. Loss of control wasn't an emotion, but Castiel was feeling that more than anything else. Like he was powerless, which was ludicrous when he mused over it in his mind, because he was one of God's children and blessed with being an Angel.

In the car on the way back to the motel, Cas couldn't stop thinking. This is what being human must feel like. Everyday, with nothing in your power, emotion washing over you in waves that you couldn't stop and you couldn't help. Feelings that burned into you like knives and some that trickled over you. Good feelings felt like Spring, warm rain amongst God's natural beauty, but bad feelings... they coiled up and writhed inside you like a thousand hot snakes, poised and ready to burst through your skin and hurt you in ways that you thought you could never hurt.

They stopped at a bar to celebrate. Dean leaned over the counter and grinned at the bar maid before ordering a third scotch for himself, a beer for Sam and a water for Castiel. Light flirting turned quickly into heavy flirting and pretty soon Dean was asking what time she finished.

Meanwhile, at their table, Sam was more interested in the fact that Cas was still with them. Normally after helping out with anything, he was gone in a flutter of cool air and they were left usually talking to themselves as if he was still there. Castiel tried to explain to him that since there was no need for him to be aiding Heaven or God at this time, he had nothing on his hands and that he was trying to keep busy. The Angel found explaining himself harder and harder due to him trying to also eavesdrop on Dean at the same time. The flirting between them grew louder in his mind than Sam talking and something moved inside of him. Like, his stomach, well, his vessels stomach. A new emotion was niggling at him but it was one that he really couldn't explain. 

“Cas?”

“Sorry Sam. It wasn't clear to me what you just said.” He tried to return all of his attention to Sam whose face was a combination of confused, quizzical and concerned. 

“I said, that sounds an awful lot like boredom.” Sam studied Castiel's silence with analytical interest. “Being bored is human. I thought Angels didn't feel?”

“Of course we don't. That's a nonsense assumption Sam.” Cas felt his mouth say the words but his face told a different story. Emotion wasn't just sitting inside him now, but making its way into expression. Sam did nothing but raise an eyebrow and Cas knew from experience that this was a sign that Sam didn't believe him, but he said nothing more, which made Cas feel the wave of relief yet again, momentarily washing over the tingling in his stomach.

Dean joined them a moment later. “So, any more leads?”

“Not at the moment, gonna keep checking local papers and Bobby's gonna call if he finds anything, but we might as well stay here and make sure that the demon nest is that only one in the area. Or at least, the only one that's killing people at any rate.”

“So, you can cover that, right?” Dean swilled his scotch around the tumbler before feeling the heat as he drank it down. 

“I guess... “

“Awesome.”

As Castiel and Sam started back towards the motel, giggling could be heard down the alleyway by the bar. As Cas threw a glance, he saw Dean frantically kissing the bar maid, her hands in his hair and his... well... all over her, his cocky smile only just visible in the low light. 

That niggling feeling turned into a tornado in his stomach and the human feeling of nausea flooded all of his senses and a mixture of anger and for some reason, unworthiness mingled into a toxin that made him take a steady breath and stop three steps later. This was a pain he hadn't felt before and above all, he didn't recognise the emotion. The confusion overwhelmed him in an instant and he could vaguely hear Sam asking if he was okay but his mind was running in circles, trying to explain the feeling. He didn't know what it was but he didn't like it. Not one bit. It ate him from the inside and quickly Cas decided that he would rather be hit, or sliced than feel this again.

There was an uncomfortable silence between Sam and Castiel until they reached the motel, when Cas stopped. “I will see you tomorrow Sam.” He paused and felt even more human. “I hope that will be satisfactory.”

“Uh, yeah. I guess. See ya...” Before Sam could finish his sentence, he heard the fluttering that meant Cas was gone. 

The Angel did not know where to go. He needed to diagnose his emotion before he could realise its implications. He stood in his Heaven, wondering how this all got so complex. Back when he was without feeling, he never had to deal with this sort of nonsense. Physical pain was no stranger to him and it never would be, but this mental anguish that he could not understand was hurting him more than any broken limb. For a moment he considered that this pain was something that all humans had to live with. Jimmy, his vessel – he had to deal with this on a daily basis. Dean and Sam did. Bobby did. Then he realised he was feeling empathy and rolled his eyes. Every feeling was making him even more human. Things were starting to catch him off guard even, as he noticed when Balthazar put a hand on his shoulder and Castiel jumped a little.

“Was that, surprise?” Balthazar was laughing in his words. “Jeeze, you're humanising a lot quicker than I thought brother.”

“Balthazar I...” He contemplated what to say. “I just did not notice you.”

“Loss of awareness,” he started counting off symptoms on his fingers, “expression without conscious thought and now what's this? Empathy? I always knew you cared.”

“I am experiencing things I do not understand.” Castiel's honest admission was not something he would normally do, but over recent events he had become closer to Balthazar than the rest of his brothers. He was a good brother, despite what other Angels might say.

“Yeah, that's being human Castiel.”

“There is an emotion I cannot place.” He looked up, intensity settling in his eyes. “What must a person feel when they have a trusted friend... and that friend is close to another?” He knew what he wanted to say but it got mixed up in his head, tumbled off his tongue. 

“I think that would be jealousy.” Balthazar's eyes narrowed and he took a step closer, tilting his head as he looked down at Castiel's face, which upset him a little, to see his little brother confused and distressed. It was a horrible kind of new. “You feel jealously when you have strong feelings towards someone.”

Castiel breathed in deeply through his nose, processing the information. He knew that he had a fondness for the Winchesters, especially Dean, but to have feelings that were affected by jealousy?

Balthazar was gone, but Castiel had no more questions for him anyway. This was something he had to work out on his own, and even thought he appreciated his brothers help, he could not feel the empathy that he could. 

No, Castiel decided. Earth was where these feelings were founded, and earth was where he would find his answer.


	2. Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Castiel becomes more and more human, he discovers feelings he cannot explain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tuesdays Chapter - Chapter Two. 2/7  
> I do not own Supernatural.  
> Thank you for reading!

“He said what?”

“He was 'keeping busy'...”

“What does that even mean?” Dean chugged the rest of the beer and tossed the bottle in the bin, throwing with more force than usual, but perfect aim. “I mean for an Angel. Hasn't he gotta be somewhere getting his smite on or something?”

Sam pulled a face. “Pretty sure that's not what they call it...”

Dean shrugged. “Whatever dude, it's Cas. He's always like that. Weird.”

Sam raised his eyebrows and went back to his research. There had to be something about a case. One lead or another. They were taking a few days, sure, but at the end of those days it helped if they had a lead of some kind.

“I am not weird.”

Both Sam and Dean practically jumped out their skin. “Cas, what the hell man? What have I told you about just popping up like that in the middle of nowhere? Nearly had a friggin heart attack!”

“I find it somewhat... disconcerting when you converse about my absent self.”

“Suck it up buttercup. What's up? I'm guessing you didn't just pop in here for no reason.”

Castiel was well aware that Sam was studying his face with interest. “I was... wondering if you had another case.”

Sam's eyes didn't leave the Angel. “Not yet. Looking though. Why do you wanna know?”

Castiel was struggling for an answer and not thinking to hide it from his face. “To keep busy. I will help you.”

Sam threw his hands in the air. “There we go! Keeping busy a lot, aren't you Cas? Why don't you tell us what's really going on?”

The Angel stopped dead and felt uneasy. Another feeling he could do without. “What do you mean?”

The younger Winchester got to his feet and took a step towards him, a sarcastic smile on his face. “You pop up, out of nowhere, to help us with a demon case, of all things. Then you stay for the drink after. You walk with me all the way back to the motel after telling us that you're just 'keeping busy' and you pop up now, of all times, when we have nothing, and even when we tell you we have nothing, you still don't pop out on us halfway through a sentence.” He frowned and Castiel realised he thought he was hiding something. “What the hell is going on with you Cas?”

The Angel turned from Sam to Dean, an almost pleading look in his eyes, but Dean shared the same stubbornly curious look as his brother. The older Winchester turned away for a second before Cas got a face full of holy water.

“I'm not a demon Dean!” He said, furiously wiping his eyes on his sleeve. 

“Then what the hell ARE you?” Dean grabbed his pistol of the side. “'Cos you sure as hell aint Cas.”

“It's me Dean.” Sam and Dean stood unbelieving.

“What is it then? Shifter? Huh? Apparition? Hallu...”

“Human!” Castiel's head was starting to ache. “Well.. not human. Just... let me explain.”

To his surprise, the boys both fell quiet for an explanation. So, he told them. Everything. He left out the minor details, like his unexplained jealousy, but other than that, they knew everything. It was better than having them think something terrible of him. There was an inhuman silence that waited after his speech. It was almost as if time had stopped whilst they were taking in everything Cas had just said.

Dean ran through Cas' words in his head. He had feelings now? Like, legit feelings? He couldn't think of anything worse. A lot of the time Cas made the wrong choice without emotion, but now this? He couldn't imagine why this would be such a big deal. How was this a punishment? Though he should have kept those thoughts tucked away mentally, because when he told Cas that he didn't get what sort of a punishment this was, Cas basically exploded in a fit of anger.

“I cannot explain to you how I feel right now Dean! Imagine thousands of years without any mental pain at all, then something crams anguish into your mind that you cannot hope to explain. Breaking everything down from years of watching humans can only get me so far. I wish to hit you.” The Angel's fists were clenched tightly, something he couldn't explain, but he felt himself wanting to strike Dean in the face, make him understand. He felt that striking him seemed to be the best way to relieve his anger but it was fading a little now.

“Woah man. Can you just chill out please?” Dean held up both his hands in mock defence. He chastised Cas with a cocky smile, before it turned genuine, torn between amusement and apologetic. “Hey look, you can hang out here I guess. We can help you with your, you know, anger issues,” to which Cas rolled his eyes, “and you can help out in cases. Deal?”

Castiel considered this but realised there was another emotion quickly overtaking his anger. “I would like to accept your deal. I think that I would like that.”

“Alright dude. Just...” He ran a hand through his hair. “Don't watch us sleep, kay? It's freakin' creepy.”

“Accepted.” Castiel felt that emotion again. A gentle breeze of what he believed to be happiness filled him. Something that made him want to smile again, but this time he had his expressions firmly in check. “Then I will see you in the morning.”

And he was gone. But he didn't leave. He didn't need to sleep, though he had considered the possibility that he might need to if he humanised to that extent. There were other things he was thinking of: losing his strength, exhaustion and hunger, of course. He stood at the motel window in the cold and remained grateful that he couldn't feel it yet, though he figured he would, given time. With all the feelings he was experiencing, he was getting the side effects of humanisation and he hated every second of it. He longed to be indifferent to everything and everyone. It made life so much easier. No more of this conscious decision making. 

He watched Dean and Sam sleep for the longest time before taking a walk to 'clear his mind', something that once seemed so alien to him, now he was giving it a chance. He'd seen Dean tossing and turning violently in his sleep and considered entering his dreams, but remembered what Dean had said. So, he stayed out of it, as much as it pained him to watch. The road was fused in hazy light, the sun peeping through the trees as it clambered lazily from its horizon depths. The colour was stunning, Cas felt, a twisted palette of warmth and light that sifted through each shadow before settling on his face. Realisation dawned on him as his mind drifted back to the boys, tucked up in dreams of their own. He did have strong feelings for them but Dean was the one who had opened his eyes and shown him that he didn't have to be mindlessly obedient to the orders of another. Now, when he came across the Angels, he couldn't believe how they didn't question their actions and didn't even care at all. Dean was the one who had shown him freedom. Was this the reason these feelings were so strong?

No. Hold on. Why would Castiel care if Dean was with a woman? Dean was more or less always with a woman. It was nothing new and yet what he was feeling was definitely new. New and horrible. No no no. Cas' brain started charging into emotional overdrive. There was no way that his feelings for Dean were strong enough to cause jealousy. It must have been something else.

Then he realised with horror that he was becoming even more human. This is what they call denial. He'd watched it for hundreds and thousands of years. People denying their own feelings because they simply didn't want to believe they were real. Either that or they were avoiding hurting themselves, or others by what they were feeling. He knew all of this and yet, he was still pushing it away. He liked Dean. He always had. But this? This felt different. 

“Cas!” 

Dean's voice cut through his thoughts and brought his problem back to earth. Castiel had been stood outside for a lot longer than he had planned. The hunter caught up to his side and gave him a wary look.

“Dude, you look like someone just told you unicorns exist.”

“Of course Unicorns exist, you humans just cannot see them because of their divine nature.”

“That's... um... well, kinda not what I meant. Anyway, just wondering how the whole, you know, transformer thing was going.”

“I am not familiar with this... what you call... transformer...”

“You Cas! Becoming human? The whole, punishment from Daddy deal?”

“Oh.” Castiel's face dropped as he remembered his earlier considerations. “I am, coping Dean. Thank you for asking.” Swimming blue eyes looked back at Dean and the hunter merely lost his train of thought. All of the Angel that Castiel held inside could be felt with his stare; unforgiving, unrelenting and leaving Dean totally exposed. That's why he had to turn away, because an unsettling urge overtook his thoughts that chilled him to the bone. He wanted to know how Cas was, not hurt him. He breathed deeply.

“Get in the car man, we're going in like, five minutes.”

-=-

“Why is Sam not accompanying us?” Castiel inquired from the passenger seat. He must admit, even though he hated the car, he quite liked riding up front. 

“He's going back to college to check out something strange that's been going on at the campus. Ghosts, he thinks. So it's just you and me.” Dean glanced sideways from the road to Castiel's expression, which, differing not so much from usual was awash in deep thought. “So, you gunna tell me what's been goin' on with you, or what?”

Cas decided to go with honesty, for no other reason other than he hated lying to Dean. “I am having problems with this human part of me. I do not like it.” His face twisted in annoyance before the expression vanished, replaced by a gaze upon Dean's profile. 

The Angel knew that Dean would help if he could. He was a good man after all. Though he would prefer not to care, about anything, he would do just about anything for Sam, and had done so many times in the past. It wasn't a case of just saying it. Dean had been to hell and back for his brother. Maybe, Castiel found himself thinking, this is where I find my feelings for him are the strongest; though they were not the only feelings. As he found himself studying Dean's features, he took in every detail that he stared upon and stored it to memory. This was Dean. His face, the one that Cas went to hell for. As he looked harder, he saw the moisture in his green eyes, the fresh stubble alighting his chin and the way his hand came up to brush against his face, against his cheek and the curve of his lips. Castiel understood the significance of lips and knew they played a great part in the lives of humans. They kissed a lot, he had noticed from watching them. Now he found himself thinking what it would be like. To kiss someone. He was still staring at Dean's lips and wondered what they felt like. Curiosity was something that was creeping up on him fast, but he had bigger problems and he knew it. That gaze he held whilst Dean was unaware; he knew that it was akin to something lustful. Castiel could not place his finger on why he felt like this and immediately felt sorry for everyone who had ever been in love, for this, he suspected, is how they must feel. In his uncomfortable thinking, he unconsciously ruffled one invisible wing that had become dishevelled after its bump with Dean, not aware that a few feathers brushed Dean's jacket as he drove, making him pay attention to the passenger side Angel.

“Dude, you're staring.”

“S-Sorry...” Cas muttered under his breath. He had no wish to upset Dean with his feelings right now, but he felt himself leaning more to the left as they drove. The closeness he shared with Dean, he realised, was making him feel a devastating mixture of emotion that contradicted each other vehemently. For one, it made him feel safe, a feeling that he had a purpose, a reason, but on the other hand, there was something else. An electricity that lit up the air between them, a feeling of falling so far and so fast that he couldn't stop. 

The rest of the drive in silence was killing him inside, because it gave Castiel all that time to just think. Even with Dean sat right beside him, he felt alone in his constant battle to understand what it was exactly that he was wanting. What did he want out of this? He knew that he wanted to act on his feelings. It was only human to desire, after all. But after all that they'd been through, he wouldn't wish anything to come between them. 

“Dean?” 

The hunter gave Cas a glance, and in that very moment, Thursday's Angel knew what he wanted. He lost himself in that two second gaze, stunning jade swirling back at him, that look that was purely Dean, the look that Castiel had come to know so well and Cas knew. He knew it from the aching in his chest to the buzzing in his mind. What he wanted was the man sat next to him. 

“What is it Cas?” Dean asked when he didn't say anything.

“What do you do when you can't get rid of a feeling? Like, it won't go away?”

Dean looked at him as though he was speaking Enochian. “What feeling?”

Now Cas was at a loss for what to say. How could he explain whilst keeping secrets? “Like... how Sam is so angry all of the time.” He saved himself at the last moment.

“You deal Cas. Look man, when you have feelings that are really strong, you do one of two things. You either bottle it up and it comes out in a heat of violence and destruction after boozing it up, or, you face it.” His expression hardened a little. “I came back from hell and I had a lot of shit to deal with. But I had to learn to let it go, because I stood and faced it. Sammy's problem? He can't face it. Everything that happened to Mom, to Jess. He still lives with that because he won't face it.”

“So standing up for how you feel? That is the best option?” Castiel's voice came out unconsciously as desperate even though he had gone for confidence. 

“I'd say so. Strong people face up to what they feel. S'what I'd do.” He shrugged, completely unaware that his words were sealing his own fate. 

Castiel nodded over and over. Everything was clicking in his head. Pieces slotted together. He vowed to himself that he wouldn't be a coward. He looked up to Den after all; looked up to who he was and the kind of man he had become. He would do what Dean would do in this situation. 

So, he waited for his chance.


	3. Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Castiel struggles with emotion and punishment, Dean undergoes a terrible change that threatens to break both of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Supernatural.  
> This is chapter three, and it only goes downhill from here.  
> I would apologise for the angst and the horror, but, it happens.  
> Thank you for reading and I hope we will make it to Sunday. Thanks again!

It finally came.

Sam had called Dean and let him know that he was going to be longer. A lot longer, apparently, since the other guys on campus had asked him to clean up a few loose ends. And celebrate. Dean had grumbled, but gone along with it. After all, what other choice did he have? Sammy deserved a break anyway, and it helped them not be at each others throats if they spent some time apart.

They were sat in the motel. Cas was sat looking over newspapers trying to find omens, or signs of a kind, like Dean had shown him, and Dean had just come out of the shower, towel wrapped around his waist, droplets dripping off his chiselled chest and soaking into the lip of the material that encircled him. The Thursday's Angel tried; he really did. He stared at the newspaper until his eyes crossed and his vision went blurry, but he couldn't hold it in. A fit of emotion and feeling surged over him in a rush of static and he couldn't control it. Before he knew it, he was standing up and turning around and facing Dean, who had just reached for a fresh shirt.

“Dean?”

“Cas, can you can it with the whole staring thing please?” He shifted uncomfortably, but it didn't stop Cas' new found bravery.

“You told me that in order to get rid of strong feelings then I have to act upon them and that's what I have decided to do.” He breathed a huge breath before saying in a voice that came out quieter than he expected. “I like you Dean. I have... feelings for you that I can't explain and I just...”

There was silence between them and Cas' emotional overdrive wouldn't let him just stand there and absorb it. He closed the gap between them with Angel speed and kissed him, feeling everything he had been looking at; the stubble, the wetness the shower had left him filmed in. But the fairytale ended when Dean shoved him, hard. The Angel wasn't ready for the force of the blow and banged into the table behind him.

“What the hell Cas?” He yelled, “What the fucking hell? Seriously!”

Castiel ignored the taste on Dean still on his lips and the pain in his back and stood back upright, his trench coat looking too big for him as he seemed to shrink, another terrifying emotion overtaking him. Rejection. 

“You're angry.”

“Of course I'm fucking angry...” Dean was almost shaking with it. It rolled around inside him like something burning up his insides and his hands twitched, strange urges rising that he choked back down.

“You told me that you should act on feelings.”

“Don't try to fucking pin this on me Cas, seriously. You're a guy. No, you're a fucking Angel for God's sake.”

Castiel flinched harshly at his Father's name. “I just...”

“No man. But nothing.” He dresses at the speed of light as Cas gazes at the floor, lost in the brand new feeling of his eyes swimming. “I'll be back later.”

The door slammed and he was gone just like that. Castiel touched his lips gingerly until he felt a hot wetness against them. Crying, he realised. He was crying. Furiously, he wiped at his eyes before he returned to these newspapers, hoping that the lines and lines of uninteresting text would take his mind off the mess that he had just created.

He didn't know what to do.

-=-

When Dean returned, he was drunk, not falling over drunk, but incredibly angry drunk. Cas stood up from the table, not knowing what to say. However, he had realised whilst Dean was out drinking that what he felt wasn't lust. Yes, he felt attracted to Dean and his thoughts were lustful, he would admit that but he felt something deeper and a need even stronger. A need to be with him, to protect him and have his feelings returned. He realised, with horrifying certainty that this must be love. 

“So Cas,” Dean poured himself a drink before downing it in one gulp. “What's really going on?” In that moment, his tone softened and Cas opened up to the temporary intrigue.

“I think I love you. This vessel... my feelings...” He gestured down at himself vaguely. “They seem to want you. I have urges to make you happy.”

“Want me?” Dean downed the third drink he'd poured since coming into the room. “Make me happy?” The glass slammed against the table and Castiel actually flinched. He flinched. His Angel had almost completely taken a back seat, probably due to the confessions and human contact he was initiating. Dean was closing the gap faster than he wanted, it was intimidating and Castiel found himself walking backwards, his heart jumping because of the clash of want and fear flooding through him. 

Thursday's Angel was trapped, his back against the wall, a look in his eyes that he had never shown before. Dean noticed it and it only fuelled him further. His fist hit the wall next to Cas' head and the smaller man closed his eyes before realising that Dean didn't actually hit him.

“Dean?” The low husk of Castiel's voice rumbled around the room in low, brassy tones. 

“You think you love me?” Dean's eyes narrowed. “Shall I show you how to make me happy Cas, huh?” He reached towards the Angel, his alcohol tainted mind not understanding the fear that he was instilling. Castiel didn't answer.

Dean kissed him, but this wasn't a kiss that Castiel had been dreaming of: it was vicious. Dean kissed him with such force that Cas' head slammed against the wall and he felt dizziness in his skull but Dean didn't stop. It was animalistic and nothing like what Castiel had expected. Dean fisted a hand in Cas' messy locks and rang out a note of pleasure down the Angel's spine, shining through the painful assault on his mouth. He tried desperately to soften this embrace, to calm down the madness but Dean was overpowering, Castiel's new found humanity making him weak in body as well as mind.

Then there was air between them, a relief to Castiel's bruised lips, but he didn't have time to react, Dean used the hand full of his hair to shove him down against the carpet, where he sank without resistance. He was confused... did this make him happy? What did he want?

Dean unzipped his pants and Castiel realised with a certain horror what the Hunter's intentions were. Then, he tried to stand but Dean forced him down again, his fingers gripping the Angel's chin and forcing him to look up at him, but all Cas saw was what was inside Dean. The glazed look over his eyes masked the fact that he was enjoying this. His time in hell, yes, he talked about it now as if it was nothing, but Castiel can now see that it still lives in him. In a gruff voice, Dean says the words that cut into Cas like a hot knife. 

“I thought you wanted to make me happy Cas?”

Castiel stopped struggling and summoned up what was left of his waning angelic power and shoved Dean. It did little except annoy him though, and before Cas could respond, Dean hit him in the face with the full force of his fist and Castiel's vision swam. Dean's lightly clothed groin twitched and Cas didn't miss it at all. This was making him hard, he realised. He's getting off on this...

Seconds after, he was on his knees again and unresponsive until he tasted Dean's flesh and his own blood in his mouth and a saltiness that wasn't from the tears trickling down his face. Dean was unrelenting as he thrust into Cas' mouth with a furious desperation and Castiel raised both hands, managing to push him away just enough so that Dean wasn't choking him. He timed his mouth to move in time with Dean and he knew the sooner Dean finished, the sooner this would be over. He mimicked what he had seen through his years of watching mankind and recent television and curled his tongue around the head, putting as much concentration into this as he could, the fact that he had was hard as a rock dawning on him slowly, the ache becoming apparent as Dean's thrusts got harder. The hand in his hair, while it hadn't moved, now grabbed his hair and yanked, hard, fresh tears appearing in Castiel's eyes.

“Look... at... me...” Dean grunted, a strange strain in his voice. Castiel obeyed, afraid of what he was going to see. When their eyes met though, he saw that Dean was crying. His face was wet as he panted, and it wasn't sweat. Dean saw the fear in Castiel's dull blue eyes and it sent him over the edge, his orgasm casting over him in tidal waves, a flush of seed hitting the back of Cas' throat. He pulled out roughly and zipped his pants back up, as if his job was finished and this lesson was over.

Dean couldn't feel anything besides what was left of his soul after being in the Pit. Adrenaline flooded through him and the familiar hum of pleasure he felt at another's expense settled on him like a thin shroud of something was once gripped him tightly. That look in Cas' eyes; the confusion, the pain, it all made him carry on without restraint. 

Cas wasn't looking at him any more. Dean looked him over once, his slumped form, tear and come stained face, but he didn't say anything. This wasn't the worst thing Dean had ever done. In the Pit, he took pleasure in torture and rape, both combining to build up a sickly beautiful harmony that he could play over and over in his head and everything didn't seem so bad. They turned him into a monster.

It didn't occur to him yet to remember that Castiel was the one who had saved him. Instead, he saw the product of his anger. Even as a teenager, he had beat a guy before who had apparently had 'feelings' for him. He didn't deal with feelings well, much less those of a male to male nature. 

After the rush, a twinge of guilt racked him from head to toe. Castiel didn't move. Dean could feel the fear coming over him in waves, knowing that it would only confuse the Angel more – he was humanising, he had said. He had also said that he didn't like it. Well, at least now Dean was pretty sure he would be rethinking his feelings.

He ignored the pang of agony that seared through the hand print on his arm and pulled on his jacket, leaving without saying a word.

Castiel did move then, rubbing his face desperately trying to rescue some of what he had looked like before the onslaught. He coughed hoarsely, realising he was feeling pain. Something entirely human and although he had felt it before, it was making his eyes leak all over again. He struggled to get to his feet, his knees tired and pressured under his weight. 

He wouldn't notice when he looked in the mirror, because he never really paid attention, but his eyes had lost their sparkle. The illicit blue that had danced its own melody when the light flickered had gone, faded and if eyes could really represent the doorways to the soul, they were empty. Not because Castiel didn't have a soul, but because now, he had no reason to ever want one. To ever need one. To start again.

In the quiet, he raised his arms and stood in the motel, staring angrily at the ceiling before using what was left of his voice to scream.

“Is this what you wanted Father?! Have I learned my lesson now?” He was crying now, breathy, body racking sobs leaving him faster than he could control. “I am SORRY!” the last word ripped itself from his throat, bruised and torn and he fell back to the floor.

Dean was his charge. Dean was his to protect. The ultimate betrayal being just that. He was bound to serve Dean, to help in his destiny and yet now, Cas would rather be drowning in the sea off Madagascar, as far away from his Judas as possible. 

“Don't cry little brother.”

Soothing words, venom voice. Castiel's head swung to face his visitor and cringed when Lucifer gazed intently at him from head to foot. Cas didn't reply though. He had nothing to say to his brother. But Lucifer carried on as if he didn't care.

“Does it hurt? Becoming one of them? Don't you think this is unfair?” When Lucifer touched his hand, Castiel snatched it back in a fit of anger and fear and the emotions tagged teamed his mind so hard he though he was going to be sick. Satan sighed before lounging back on one of the cheap, uncomfortable armchairs. “You know what upsets you the most? It's not what Dean has just done. You run a lot deeper than that brother, I know.”

Castiel merely turned his back, but that didn't stop Lucifer from talking. “It hurts what you saw in his head: him putting you on the rack. Just like one of his tortured souls. Treating you like an animal,” his eyes narrowed. “You saw the way he wanted to carve out your eyes and clip out your tongue.” Cas shivered as the memory of what he had seen in Dean's mind crawled up his spine. But Lucifer wasn't finished. Instead, he was behind Thursday's Angel, iron grip locked his wrists behind him and one hand coming up around his throat. Castiel barely struggled. Not because he didn't want to get away. He knew this was dangerous and the odds were that Lucifer would snap his neck when he liked anyway. But because he just didn't have the strength any more.

“You know he is curious about your wings too. You saw that part, I know you did.” The Devil whispered, like poison into Castiel's ears and he closed his eyes tightly, knowing that although his brother was evil, he wasn't lying. He had seen what Dean desired and it terrified him. 

And in a second of falling, Lucifer let go and Cas was on the floor where he rushed to his feet. His brother regarded him with a smirk. “The moment you decide that Dad's being unjust, and the minute you can't take your punishment any more...” He met Castiel's gaze and held it, tension building. “...Come find me little brother.”

And he was gone, leaving Thursday's Angel alone with his thoughts and the sound of his own ragged breathing. He didn't stay there long before retreating to his Heaven, which was not his true heaven any more. Since becoming so human, he couldn't go to his real heaven, the one with the blue sky and the kite and the endless rows of flowers and soft green grass. Instead, he went down the road to a small patch of woods that blossomed into life with thousands of bluebells and he stayed there for the longest time, accepting his new Heaven and knowing that this was now his place of Sanctuary, somewhere where he could escape all of his feelings and fade out – thinking of nothing and everything, his mind falling into exhaustion and pain without comfort.

Without anything.


	4. Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel finds himself in his worst nightmare when Dean hits the bottom of his downward spiral.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thursday's chapter is here.   
> I need a coffee.  
> Warning: it only gets worse from here.  
> I don't own Supernatural.  
> Thanks for reading!

Dean came back to the Motel to find Castiel was gone. He slumped back into bed and was asleep pretty much from when his head hit the pillow. He couldn't help it: everything that the Angel was reminded him of what he was, of what he became down there. Something was brewing inside of him that he couldn't crush, a prickling heat of unsatisfied hell left dormant inside him. Until now.

He dreamed of Castiel on the rack that night and loved it. Castiel was imbued with his wings – beautiful, huge and dangerous. Coiled around him protectively through the gaping hole in the slats that Dean had made specially. Castiel was trying to reason with him but all Dean felt was the washing of pleasure he felt at Castiel's pleas. He ran his hands through the wings, making Cas shudder, goosebumps rushing to the surface of his vessel's flesh. In that moment of uncertainty, he took the opportunity to grasp the jutting bone of the right wing and yanked with all his body strength.

It didn't quite snap, but made an ugly tearing sound that rang throughout the tiny cell where he was kept. Nothing compared to the sound that came out of Castiel's mouth though. A scream, so shrill and strangled it could have come from a bird that shattered every light bulb, broke every glass and whiskey ran over the floor to Dean's booted feet. The scream made his very soul ache. It made him shudder in pleasure from head to foot and he was hard in record time. Alcohol, sweat and blood lined his clothes in every crease. The only noise that could be heard was the ear piercing shriek and the desperate flapping of useless appendages. He brushed a feather from his shoulder and observed Castiel's face, a shocked mix of physical and emotional anguish that racked through him, leaving tiny audible sobs in their wake.

“Please... Dean,” he panted breathlessly. “Please stop this.”

Dean laughed, a noise that betrayed what he really felt. He didn't even recognise it; he knew it to be a laugh, but the tone, the sound. It wasn't him and he knew that this, in this room, with this blade in his hand, this was the only place he would ever make that sound.

Cas' pleas fell on deaf ears. Dean was immune, flying high in his exploration, intimately touching Castiel with gentle hands before replacing the touch with something painful. He reached for his wings once more and this time, Castiel's voice was adamant. 

“Don't touch them.”

There was only a trace of fear in that voice, and it wasn't so much a plea, as a command. Dean felt power crackle all around him before that laughter that wasn't all him and altogether not human exploded from his throat. “Yeah right Cas. Nice try. We both know that you're busy harbouring the curse of Daddy's punishment. You couldn't stop me if you tried. And let's face it,” his lip curled in a sick smile. “You didn't really try, did you? Almost like this was what you wanted...”

“No...” The twisted groan escapes the Angel with a painful flap of his wings, loose feathers flying through the still, blood ridden air. “I wanted... not this. Wanted...” He struggled with every syllable like he was breathing fire. “To... real love... Us...” His mouth skittered around the word and Dean didn't like it. The word 'us', so definitive, so clear. He chased up a growl of anger with a brutal stab to Castiel's left wing, but he didn't scream so much as give a heaving, shuddering cry.

Something about Cas' honest confession and his explosion of feelings was changing Dean. The last real feeling he had felt was the blade in his hand and the blood on his skin; not his blood, but the blood he was spilling so shamelessly, thousands of human souls begging to die on his rack. This was his last feeling and he could feel the anger rising in him, mingling with the hatred of someone trying to be so close to him. This is how he dealt. When it came down to it, he would choose the torture over feelings every time. 

-=-

When he awoke, Castiel was still nowhere to be seen. Instead of sluggish, he had clarity in his head. He wasn't okay. He wasn't right. Everything he saw reminded him of what he had become. Dean knew that this was it. He needed time. He needed space. 

So when he called Sam, he said goodbye, but added that it wouldn't be forever. Sam was angry, he could feel it down the phone, but it was only when he got the urges to make his brother shut up in the most painful of ways that he knew he was doing what was best. He hung up, knowing that Sam would find it hard to forgive him, but what was living and breathing inside of Dean was dangerous, too dangerous to put somebody he cared about in danger.

You already did that, his mind whispers to him, but Dean didn't listen.

-=-

He found himself an abandoned house just ashore of a huge lake that he didn't even know the name of. It was just big enough for him. There was even a shady spot behind the house that just hid the car from common view. It was one of the nicer abandoned properties that he had found himself in. The bed still had relatively clean bedding, but he still decided to opt for his sleeping bag. More for habit than anything else. 

He was making his boundaries. He would hunt only within fifty miles of here, no more. Never more than one case at a time. And if he picked up a girl, if they couldn't go back to hers, he would leave it, and she would always go on top. Dean decided that giving him any more control than what was necessary saved himself from slipping. He refused to give up the drink though. He still needed his vices.

The first night in that house, he dreamed of Castiel again, shuddering in his sleep.

This time, he was unaware of the Angel watching him in reality, having followed him closely. Dean was still his charge after all. He knew that something wasn't right. His emotions were alive and kicking inside his mind though, fighting a war that he couldn't salvage. Fear, yes, fear was the primary reaction to Dean right now. But there was also confusion, that tiny sliver of what he thought was love and above all, determination. He had saved Dean once, he could do it again, he knew he could, he just needed the chance. 

Would he give you the chance though? Cas was wrecked from thinking this over and over. He would get hurt, he could feel it surging from Dean, even as he slept; he was becoming Dean's plaything, something for him to take his frustrations out when he slept. 

Dream Castiel was screaming, a wing hanging limp and bloody, feathers fisted harshly in one of Dean's calloused hands. The screams wouldn't stop and the real life Castiel flinched, his real wings twitching, invisibly convulsing as though he was feeling the pain in reality.

If it came down to it, would Dean be able to tell the difference? If this was real, would he be able to stop? 

Dean woke with a start, flushed and sweating, his sleeping bag semi hiding the fact that he was hard, but Castiel didn't miss it at all and it gave him a chill even though it wasn't cold at all. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Dean growled. He didn't get up though, merely watched Cas with wary eyes. 

“I came to help,” Cas spoke quietly, his voice, as always, deep, resonating and untouched by the sound of a lie. Honesty was something Castiel believed in more than anything else. To lie was to cheat and cheating always came back at you eventually. 

“Help?” Dean practically spat the word, his drowsiness all but gone. “You came to help me?” He got to his feet and Castiel wavered, his stance shrinking, the human terror he felt hard to choke down.

When Dean was inches from him, he panicked and as their skin barely touched, he vanished to his sanctuary. His haven was untouched, like before but he felt electricity all over him, tingling fear and his breathing stuttering. He would try tonight, he decided. Then, rest came. Cas had never really needed to rest before, but the emotions were spoiling him; ruining him from the inside out. Even flying to come back here was weighing heavy on him and with a sigh he thought about how long he could keep this up for. If he couldn't get away... what happens to birds when they can't fly any more?

He shook away the thought and slumped against the nearest serene oak before closing his eyes and wishing that he could sleep. 

-=-

He appeared to Dean that evening, with complete regret. His power was all but gone, save for what little strength he had left. He could not fly any more and all the grace he had left was hiding his wings and pouring itself into false hope that Dean would listen. 

But Dean by this point had almost half a bottle of scotch in him, on an empty stomach and his thoughts were raging, angry. Something was different, he could almost taste it in the air around them.

“I came to help.”

Dean's hand closed around his wrist, his grip like steel and Castiel swallowed hard. “I just want to help you Dean.”

“Because you love me.” It wasn't a question, but a cruel and knowing statement that Dean viciously spat every word to. Cas' honesty did nothing but stay quiet. That was one of the reasons. Dean was not wrong. He didn't have the time to think about this though, the wall felt a thousand times harder than it should have when Dean threw Cas into it. 

The falling Angel struggled to his feet, finding them, and his voice. “Dean, you're my charge. I protected you once. Let me again... please.”

The last word was one that Castiel instantly regretted saying. That plea, it rushed into Dean like all of those screams he'd dreamed when he put Cas on the rack. He charged Castiel with all his alcohol fuelled strength and they tumbled to the floor, Cas pushing hard as he could but Dean managed to land a blow to his face, which instead of rolling off him like usual, twisted his head to the side, blood immediately flowing down his chin, not helped by the second, and third and fourth hits that Dean delivered with drunken inaccuracy. 

“D-Dean,” Castiel choked on his name, blood filling his mouth. It did nothing but spur Dean on, dragging Cas to his feet and throwing him onto the armchair where he slumped, face bloody.

“You don't get it do you?” Dean's face was inches from his, and Castiel flinched at the hot breath on his skin, a feeling that should have been beautiful but was marred by past actions and his own trembling.

“You can help me. I'll show you what it's like. You wanna see how good I am?” His pupils were huge, high and drugged on his own ego and intoxicated by the potential sat there. He drank in falling Castiel before him and his thoughts ran wild, drunk with power. All of Dean's hell overtook him in a heartbeat and he wasn't looking at Castiel any more, but a blank canvas. His next masterpiece.

“Please, Dean,” Cas went to get up, to get away but Dean was on him in less than a second. His pleas didn't reach Dean in his state.

To his surprise, Dean kissed him gently. The kiss was more of what he had expected from someone you love. Their lips met and tongues caressed each other as Castiel mimicked Dean's own movements. It was only when he visibly relaxed that Dean struck.

Castiel kicked out for air that he once hadn't needed as Dean's hand clasped his throat. Dean bit down the side of his neck and collarbone leaving angry little bubbles of blood to come rushing to the surface, his lips catching and when he kissed the Angel again, he gave him a taste of what was really inside him. Castiel, tasting his own blood in his mouth kicked out harder than before and Dean crashed to the floor and that was when he took the chance to get away. He didn't get far. Dean fisted a hand in his messy dark hair from behind and drove his head into the beside table. Darkness threatened to overtake him, but he pushed back weakly, knowing that he was too weak to stop anything that Dean wanted. He barely noticed as Dean ripped the tie from his neck and knotted his wrists to the headboard above his head, which lolled to one side as though it couldn't keep up its own weight.

Castiel's true fear was in the not knowing. He felt himself tied down and he had pangs of being on Dean's rack, where he knew Dean felt the most comfortable. But then he thought of what else Dean might do, out of spite, and the loss of his intimacy meant a great deal more to him than pain. He could stand pain, he couldn't stand being violated by his friend when the Winchester knew how much he loved him.

Dean's hand slapping his face brought him back to reality with a snap.

“Don't go anywhere, I want you to feel this.” His voice was a snarl and Cas felt hot tears run down his face. He wasn't even aware that he was crying, it just happened. “See, this is what you get for loving someone. Especially someone as fucked up as me.”

“Dean, you're not...”

Dean cut off Castiel's shuddering words short with a sharp kiss, one that hurt. No more comfort or false compassion. It was like before, blood passing between them, Dean's tongue trying to go as far as it could before he pulled at Castiel's lip with his teeth, but Thursday's Angel wasn't one for giving up. He bit back, with every intention of hurting Dean, not entirely in control of his anger and fear. 

Dean pulled back and wiped a sleeve across his mouth before laughing darkly and Cas' eyes grew wide, blue and beautiful and scared. That noise was the one he had heard in Dean's dreams. The very same. It cracked his heart and his resolve split in two. He watched Dean change from angry, drunk Dean just taking his frustrations out on him, to clinical, cold, uncaring and patient Dean; the Dean he had plucked kicking and screaming from hell, the one he loathed and the one that had shone the brightest. This wasn't his Dean, his mind drummed on, tiny prayers slipping through, not so much for his own Father to have some mercy on him, but more for the Dean he knew to come back. To realise that all Castiel wanted to do was protect him, to heal him, to hold hold him so that he could become himself again.

“So, still got some fight in you Cas?” Castiel narrowed his eyes and resembled his old self for a moment.

“Don't you dare call me that... Don't say my name.”

Wrong move. It was all Dean said, over and over, whispered it in his ear, against his bruised lips and Castiel cringed at the name every time. Cas, Cas, Cas, Cas. It bit into him like hell fire and chewed out any hopes he had left. This wasn't them, this wasn't Dean. This just wasn't...

Dean's fingers were like hot pokers as he grabbed him everywhere. He toyed with Castiel's nipple for a split second and the Angel couldn't stop the noise that hitched up in his throat. The rustling and the breathing and the saying of Cas' name stopped and he wished that he could take it back, but they had both heard it. Cas knew that Dean had heard it too but instead of hitting him, Dean's hand went back to how he had made the noise in the first place. This time Castiel kept his mouth shut, lips pressed tightly together as Dean continued playing with him slowly, watching Castiel's face with heightened interest. 

“Come on Cas, do that again. Don't pretend you didn't like it. We both know this is what you want.” He pinched hard and Castiel could not help the whimper that escaped, his traitorous lips instantly slamming closed again for the briefest time. Dean nudged his thigh between Castiel's legs and brushed against his hard cock, already standing to attention even though Castiel would wish for anything but. His body was betraying him, this human nature revealing him completely. The noise he made was like a throaty low groan, but deeper and full of anger, like a repressed growl. He didn't know who he was more angry at; Dean, for doing this to him, or himself for being so needy. 

He met Dean's eyes with a stare and it tore right through him. His pupils were engorged, lost to who he was, his Hell Self, unafraid of hurting him and more focused on destroying him. Castiel recognised the look from his dream spotting and it sent violent shudders through him. Where was Dean? Why did he leave? Why didn't he fight?

“Come back Cas,” Dean hissed, shoving his knee into Castiel's groin forcefully. The hunter watched him choke back a gasp between teeth and blood and his eyes widened. “I know you're getting off on this you sick son of a bitch, I can see how hard you are.”

“Then I guess I'm not the only sick son of a bitch,” Cas spat, emphasis where it was needed. Dean's dick was just as hard as his, but instead of angering Dean, it only seemed to amuse him, those dark and evil eyes remaining lost in his own hell. 

Then Dean said a phrase that cut Castiel deeper than any knife could. “Please, don't think for one second this makes me like you.” He gripped the Angel's chin in solid hands and this time, Cas didn't even try to twist away, emotional despair rooting him down. “It's just the look in your eyes. I wonder how much an Angel can learn fear?” Cas went to open his mouth, searching for a cold clad comeback, but Dean was more on point, tongue like steel against Castiel's mind. “Oh wait, Daddy dear gave you quite the spanking, didn't he? Did it hurt? Becoming one of us when you were so special?.”

That's the moment Castiel knew he was lost. Not wavering, not reaching out to be rescued, but well and truly and entirely gone. Gone. Gone. Gone. He couldn't fathom a reply. His mouth parted slightly in unconscious hurt and he was trapped in the thralls of his own blind panic. He stilled himself against every fibre of his being, silently hoping that it would make this easier.

Nothing would make this easier.


	5. Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel knows now; Dean is lost and this is his new sanctuary, his new rack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Friday's chapter. I have to post it early because I have a wedding to go to.  
> Like I said, this is not a fluffy story.   
> This isn't a long chapter, but there's only two more to go after this one.  
> I don't own supernatural, but I do own a coffee machine and I'm going to go and get a latte.  
> Thanks for reading and any kudos and feedback is appreciated!

Castiel wasn't afraid of dying, he had not so secret intel about the afterlife after all. He wasn't even scared of pain, although he detested how it felt in this weakened shell. He knew that Dean would find every little thing to exploit him, to aid his exploration of pain, but this was his friend. He was afraid of losing himself in someone who was no longer there.

“Stop.” He tried one last time to appeal to Dean, to anything that was left, but he knew that there would be no response besides pain and Dean revealing Castiel's weaknesses, unravelling him inch by inch.

Dean knelt on both Castiel's legs, the pressure causing Cas' eyes to squeeze shut. He didn't cry out though, he barely made a sound. He wouldn't let Dean off that easily. He wouldn't give in, not even if it meant having to fight back against the shape of the man he loved. He watched Dean's jaw tighten, a droplet of sweat dripping from his hairline and landing noiselessly next to Castiel's cheek on the sheet. Dean was close now, too close for Castiel to be comfortable. He averted Dean's gaze as best as he could, desperate not to look at how much Dean wanted to hurt him. 

The Angel said nothing when Dean drew the box cutter across his chest, his borrowed skin looking deathly pale against the sight of blood. He tugged hard at the restraints, his own tie being what was holding him down. It pulled and rubbed against his skin and he pulled again, harder, moving the headboard in the process, which didn't go unnoticed. Dean slid the blade down both of his arms and Castiel bit down hard on his lip. He did not give Dean the satisfaction of knowing that he was hurting pretty much just the same as a human would.

Dean continued cutting him, silence looming between them as all Cas did was breathe harder. Suddenly he found himself wondering what Dean's end game was. He was cutting him deliberately slowly, every cut not going too deep. He could feel his grace healing each cut, but it didn't hurt like he knew Dean was capable of. Instead, it ached more than anything, to watch those hands hurt him rather than hold him. Or hell, even push him away. Rejection passively hurt him, that they could still be friends, still help each other out, like nothing had happened. An ache and need in Castiel's heart but nothing more. This was active; something breathing and alive burning him up from the inside. Dean wanted to hurt him, he could feel it in the faded twilight rolling off him. 

“What do you want from me?” Castiel's voice was low, soft and laced with darkness, not knowing if he really wanted the answer.

Dean ignored him for a few moments, his watch ticking under the thin layer of blood over the face, carried on with his art. 

“Sam once told me something about Angels,” he murmured so quietly that Castiel strained to hear him. “Something he found out in research...” Without warning, he violently stuck the box cutter halfway down the chest heaving in front of him and the Angel gasped, shock of cold cheap metal biting into him, felt the rush of blood swoon over his ribs painting them a colour he should be wearing on his inside.

“Ah...”

“Did you know that when grace runs dangerously low, an Angel's wings can manifest themselves on our plane?”

A huge breath left Castiel in a rush and the blade twitched in his chest, the pain splitting his focus. “That's not true...” he wasn't even sure he believed himself.

“We'll see. I always did have a curiosity to be sated...” He didn't look fazed and Cas struggled to pin the emotion that was running over his face, but thrashed when he discovered that it was excitement.

“No... No no...” The word was all he could say, choke, mumble, as Dean kept on carving him, the occasional stab when it took his fancy. 

Dean couldn't do this, his wings, his wings were precious. The one thing that kept him holy, the one thing that his Father had granted him: his beautiful gift. Wings were something only shown to those most trusted, ordinarily something that Castiel wouldn't have minded, he would have considered it a privilege to show Dean his wings, but that wasn't here and that definitely wasn't now. Wings were intimate, held dear by the Angels, touched only by close family and mates. He knew Dean's intentions, they shone in his eyes almost as bright as his soul had once shone, and they were impure, vile and bloody. 

Dean kept his face close to Castiel's. Now he knew the rumour was true, he could tell by the fear pouring from every pore of the Angel under his hands, he couldn't help himself. Once his intrigue for the wings was purely a passing wonder; he had asked Cas about it once, but like everything, the Angel had dismissed it. Now, it was a desire, billowing fast from his belly, a hunger that no earthly sin could satisfy, a hole that nothing else could fill. He wanted to break them, wanted to hear Castiel scream. Then he'd show him what love really was, just like Alistair had once shown him. Alistair taught him everything. Love was created when you beg for mercy, when you decide that you'd rather be taken than endure any more pain. This is right, he nodded to himself. This was real. This was what made sense.

Wings. Hurt. Beg. Tease. Break. Take. A cycle that did a million laps of his mind until it rolled silently off his tongue. 

“Dean, Dean, stop, Dean.” Castiel was like a broken record but his voice remained steady, despite the blood flow down his skin. His grace was healing it and there was nothing he could do to stop it. It was trying to heal him, like magic auto pilot. 

Castiel got twitchy after Dean had been at his work for about an hour. His cock was painfully hard and he twisted under Dean as he felt something convulse through him. A shake, a shudder and Dean jabbed the knife painfully under the Angel's ribs before scrambling off the bed on to his feet, knees sore. He shoved Castiel until he was on his stomach, the bindings knotting even tighter and the fresh wound dripping in thick clumps onto the bed beneath him, then he jumped back just in time.

It happened.

It was like nothing Castiel had ever felt before, a rush of grace that electrified the air, his back going into frantic spasms, he panted for air but couldn't take in enough to fill his lungs. It felt like a weight was being lifted from inside of him, but placed on his back instead. It arched, a stunning arc that he struggled to bend back out of. 

Dean stared unsmiling as the wings appeared before him. He expected them to be smaller, fluffier. They were tawny, streaks of white and tiny little hints of brown scoring the expanse of each wing. They darkened towards the bottom, a thick navy black like he'd been tarred, and the outer edges were scored, scarred as if by claws. They dove together, gracefully coming to their halt at Castiel's skin, the feathers there smaller, more like Dean had imagined them. They were wings. They were Castiels. And they were fucking celestial. 

Castiel panted at the feelings of his grace jolting every inch of his skin and despite his best efforts, his dick leapt. Dean wasn't exactly distracted for long. Cas had never before felt so open, so exposed. He was a nerve awaiting a hot touch that he couldn't possibly hope to anticipate. The pins and needles that he was feeling grew into spikes and he was impaled; a beautiful blue eyed butterfly pinned and spread, ready for preservation. Ready to be seen. Hot fat tears drawled down his face and sank into the bed beneath him, his knees pushing deeper into the mattress. He thought he was utterly spent, but watched Dean warily over one shoulder, shivers flowing through him uncontrollably. 

The Winchester outstretched his fingers towards them and Cas flinched so violently that both wings shot out to either side, one smashing into the lamp that had narrowly missed demolition earlier, plunging them into faint darkness while the other shattered the window, recoiling back as Castiel cried out, shards of glass stuck fast and deep from the impact. Dean did nothing but watch, fascinated by how a ghostly touch could cause such a reaction. He watched the Angel clench his fists and then relax, his breath uneven, shaking, feathers jittering like live wires. 

“Please Dean, don't. Don't touch them.” He tried to say it with something of the Angel within him but it came out almost a sob. Dean didn't answer. He dragged the bed from the wall so he could kneel down near Castiel's face. “Don't look at me... get away from me...” 

“What do you want me to touch instead?” He asked, walking back around the bed. Dean's voice was cool, icy in fact. He brushed his hands across Castiel's aching cock for a millisecond and the reaction was immediate. A choked up moan trembled in the air and Cas' head dropped, his wings twitching restlessly. He was dragging this out, Cas knew it. He wanted him to ask for it. That's what he had done when he was on the rack. He had to ask first, then beg when he was denied and Castiel wasn't one for begging. 

“Cas, you there?” His hand touched it this time, running a finger over the leaking head, his spine tingling when he heard the throaty groan rumble from the Angel under his hands. 

“Yes,” Castiel managed to rasp, figuring that it would only get worse if Dean were ignored. Like a child, he'd poke and prod, or in this case, cut and break until he got a response. The noises that were coming out of Cas' mouth scared him. He tried to tell himself that they were just involuntary reactions to Dean's touch but that didn't stop him despising himself for every one that escaped. This was Dean's rack, his new sanctuary; just like Cas had to find one, so had Dean. 

“Good. Don't go anywhere, kay?” It almost sounded like the Dean he knew. 

How could it have come to this? Sure it was a lot to put on someone, that you had feelings for them, and especially since he'd studied the fact that a lot of humans still held to their male/female stereotypes, but he didn't think that Dean was like that. He expected some form of discomfort, hell, he was sure that's what he would get, but for Dean to completely change before him, well, he just didn't understand. There hadn't been any time really for someone to put a spell on him, or had there been? Castiel's mind ticked over, trying to ignore Dean's gaze roaming over him like a starving predator. It could have been the demon, the one who laid her hands upon him. But why? Out in the open air, bleeding and shaking, he really did not have the heart to think about an end game.

When Dean ran a finger down a long streaked feather, the Angel couldn't control the convulsion that racked him, his voice strangled, his breath struggling. This was wrong, so much so, and Dean could not realise that. Every inch of his wings was a delicate nervous system, twined down into his vessel on this plane, growing like a plant, and Dean had exposed his roots. It didn't hurt, not yet anyway. Instead, it felt like a crackle, like someone shocking him, a jolt travelling down into his spine and he didn't want it to, god knows he didn't want it to, but it felt so good. His charge, touching him like this; days ago it was something he would have prayed for. This closeness, this trust; all it did now was betray him.

“Do you like that?” Came the whisper in his ear, hot breath licking the shell, goosebumps flying to his shoulders. Cas refused to answer when Dean's hand slid through a mass of ruffled feathers and what left him instead of an insult was a whine, his inner confusion vocalised so Dean could hear him. 

Dean on the other hand was driven crazy by that voice. He'd heard human souls scream in Hell, heard them weep and beg as they clawed at themselves at the Hunter's command. This was different. Torture had always turned him on, a basic power exchange that rode his body so freely it was almost natural, but this was different. This power exchange wasn't some petty hell sent soul; but an Angel, a heavenly soldier, one of devout faith, placed inside a holy man that treasured the idea of his Father. Not only that, but the Angel had looked on him with glittering blue eyes full of hope and adoration and confessed his true feelings. 

True breaking wasn't skin deep. It came from inside both the tormentor, and the subject. The tormentor must be able to cut without knives, and to butcher without spilling blood, although physical pain is the catalyst by which the breaking happens. In turn, the subject must be torn open spiritually, broken in mind as well as body. Dean knew this better than anyone. He had played his part of the victim... now it was his turn to be the top of the food chain and this, having a servant of God writhing under his hands, well, this was as high as he could get. He couldn't stop his hands, or his mind. Red was all he could see. Torture or be tortured was all his mind was crying at him. His body couldn't hold back.

Something was breaking inside him too.

Castiel had gone cold all over. Dean was just looking at him, a war waging in his eyes. Thursday's Angel didn't move as much as he could, but his wings were shaking, feathers ruffling under Dean's gaze. He knew that they were reacting to the feelings inside of him, but this was not the time, nor the place and he wished desperately that he could stop it, to still the twitching and be silent and stiff and unresponsive.

But he was so hard, and it hurt so much, and his wings were like lightning rods sending electricity to his groin. This is just another rack, he thought sadly as Dean came around to his face. He couldn't meet those eyes.

“What do you want Cas?” Dean asked almost pained. 

“Let me go.”

“I mean, besides that.”

Cas gave a shuddering sigh that pulled at the wounds in his skin. “Be you. This isn't... just... stop.”

“You know what? I think I know you better than you know yourself.”

“Is that so?”

“Like, I know you're lying.”

Castiel's shoulders sagged as Dean reached for his face, finding his chin and forcing him to look up into his face. “What do you want, Cas?” He repeated, their lips inches apart. Castiel couldn't think, couldn't breathe. What encircled his thoughts was that one soft kiss that they shared, before this ordeal began tonight. The kiss that he knew was purely Dean. It swept around his mind lazily, like it didn't even need an excuse to be there and the truth was, it really didn't. It was something that Castiel was clinging to, like a grain of rice in the ocean. He knew exactly what Dean meant. Castiel was to ask for him. Castiel was to beg for him. Castiel was to break until everything he got was his own doing, because he had asked for it.

“I'm not going to take the blame for anything you do to me.” His voice ran timid, a gentle whisper like you would use with a wild stallion. “I won't ask, Dean. This is your doing, not mine.”

That was when Dean lost it. He reached for Castiel's hair and yanked it towards him in a frenzy, his eyes flashing with madness and looked straight into the Angel's eyes. 

“Everybody asks Cas. Everyone. Don't make me do this.”

“I'm not doing anything,” Cas protested, his aversion to pain building inside of him as he struggled uselessly against the hand on his head. “I'm not making you do anything!”

“Then ask.” Dean's voice was sweet and dripping in deadly intent. If ever Alistair made a piece of Art, Dean was definitely it. Castiel heard his Dean in the notes but knew it was lies. Another time, another place, he would have asked. He would have begged. But in this room, because of Dean's eyes, he knew that the only thing to come from this was his undoing. His downward spiral.

Dean's thumb ran softly over Castiel's lips and all Cas could do was look at him, silently begging him to see sense, to change back into the Dean he knew and fell so hopelessly in love with. The one he came down to Hell to fight for, the one he could protect and learn from, the one that had made him question everything and opened his eyes, changed him so he was no longer a puppet of a higher power but his own living, breathing, thinking creature that none of the other Angel's were.

He never came.

“No.” 

That was the last Castiel used of his strong and determined voice. 

Dean dropped his head. “So be it.”


	6. Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When will is shattered and you stand broken, there's always further to fall. Always.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nearly there. Saturdays chapter: 6/7 is here.  
> I have really bad infected eyes so I tried to put this up earlier but they were stuck together. Forgive me for the delay, I was busy playing doctor.  
> This chapter is heavy with slash and graphic torture. You have been warned.  
> I do not own Supernatural, but if I did, it would be awesome.  
> Thanks for reading and again, any feedback is appreciated!

Dean was getting impatient, Castiel could tell. He was pacing, rubbing his fingers into old cuts. Cas never screamed.

Oh he whimpered. He moaned and cried and choked out Dean's name. His skin was bruised with finger marks where Dean grabbed him, pulled at him, choked him and pinched him and held him down. He was awash with a mixture of sweat, blood and tears, the sheets splattered with much of the same, plus an additional ingredient from his weeping cock.

“S-Stop”.

To his surprise, he did. Dean's eyes were glazed over so Castiel couldn't even recognise them any more. He brought their faces close again and this time, Cas didn't even try to pull away. He merely panted, ran a tongue over his cracked lips and lifted his shoulders the tiniest bit. One of the main reasons he acknowledged Dean is that he hadn't gone after his wings yet. They still swayed, fluttering in the cold and trembling in response to his pain and arousal.

He felt the bindings slip from his wrists and he twisted immediately on the bed, kicking out with everything he had left, blood gushing down one side. The floor painfully rushed up to meet him as he fell, Dean's hands on him a second later. The next moment was chaos, Dean wrestled with him, like he was trying to restrain a huge wild bird and Castiel just writhed and flapped and fought to be free.

Dean hoisted him up, legs still kicking and without any warning, thrust a thick steel spike into one of the wings where it shredded its way through and pierced into the wall behind him.

It was the most beautiful noise Dean had ever heard.

The scream that ripped its way from Castiel's throat didn't start or end in any particular way; it just _was_ , endless and constant until it wasn't any longer. It pierced the air, shattered the unlit lightbulb and the second window and Dean could taste it on his tongue, the sweet memory sticking fast in his mind. It lasted several long seconds before Castiel's mouth fell slack, his jaw dropping, mumbled words in Enochian leaving his voice that Dean didn't understand. His free wing flapped and stretched and tried to hit Dean, but the Hunter was adamant on hearing that noise again. He reached under the bed for a bag he needed and Castiel fought tooth and nail to get off that wall. He kicked and pulled and battled against his pinned wing but his torturer was back at his side in an instant.

He wrapped his arm around Castiel's struggling form and shifted him off his feet, lifting him in the air, Cas pushing against him, the feeling of skin on skin way too much for him to bear. He was clawing at Dean's back when he felt the second spike go in.

He screamed then; like before, only higher, his pain mingling together until he couldn't separate injury from injury, his whole body a cascading wave of agony. He closed his eyes tight and his scream this time gave way to a sob, blood filling his mouth. His wings were the best part of him; they hurt just like any other part of him, except a thousand times worse. Imagine a paper cut on the web underneath your tongue. A burn on your eardrum. Take these pains and multiply them by several thousand times and this was Castiel's Hell right now.

His arms seemed useless, his clawing nothing more than clinging to his pain maker. He really was trapped, facing Dean, in the worst position he could be in. His toes scraped against the floor, but Cas wasn't sure that even if his feet could get back to it that they would hold his weight.

“D-Dean...” His name being said in that pained, terrified cry fuelled the fire burning in his eyes. He ignored Castiel's weak pushing arms and brought himself close, his breath over twitching, scared skin, his fingers dancing over freshly clotting wounds. Dean nested his head on Cas' shoulder and viciously stabbed Castiel's wing with the blade in his hand, feeling it scrape the bone and nearly had his eardrums burst with the strangled but back arching beautiful noise that Cas couldn't hold back. It sent shivers through him.

“S-Stop.. Dean, p-please...” Dean ground his thigh against Castiel's shaft and fisted a hand in his wing at the same time, the sensation flying through Cas' body like a shock wave. He didn't even try to hide it. He threw back his head and _moaned_ , shamelessly and loudly, but all it did was excite Dean, who spotted his chance.

“What do you want, Cas?” He spoke with his lips on the Angels, defiance setting a smile upon his face. “Tell me what you need, and it'll stop hurting.” He smiled wider as Cas mumbled Enochian nonsense before heaving a sob. “Come on Cas... just tell the truth, you're good at that...” Castiel whimpered, pushing closer to the hand that cupped his face. He was done. Enough pain to last a lifetime. His wings shuddered, couldn't lie still and they dripped with blood like they just wouldn't _stop._ He raised his head so his lips touched Deans.

“Please make it s-stop. P-please make it feel good.” His voice was a ghost, tiding over his ragged breath, his eyes dark and heavy with tears. His hands came up to clutch as Dean's shirt, fisting his hands in the material like he could get lost inside this man. He needed something, anything, other than agony. Other than betrayal, but he knew he would never get anything more, anything less. What you see was what you got. That was the Dean in front of him. Dean the Impaler, Dean the Tormentor and Dean whose eyes were brimming with hell.

Castiel was choking on his words, biting back the humiliation shaming him from head to toe. His throat burned from screaming, his eyes prickling with hot and sticky tears. He was a flame, burning and burning until his wax were the tears of his undoing. His wings flailed to no avail, cold biting metal keeping him fastened in his makeshift prison. Dean's touch on him, so gently made his toes curl up, wanting more of his Dean, his mind taking a back seat and giving way to every sensation that tempered him. The Hunter didn't answer him, Cas' moans settling in the otherwise blatant silence around them.

Dean nudged his thigh again into Cas and the Angel didn't hold back, head tilting back and whine escaping his throat. They kissed, Castiel leaning in first, desperately trying to capture Dean's essence with his own, but it was still rough, still raw and Cas reached for it, further than before, his wings spiking, trapped in this lethal embrace. What was left of his grace flickered around his wounds but gravitated towards Dean, pulling them closer as if he had no choice.

But he did have a choice and he'd already made it. The Winchester had shattered the will left within him, broken and molested the greatest and purest part of him, and now he was craving it. He was starving, _famished_.

Dean looked down with heated eyes, his desire boiling over, although he could feel an inner place crying out from somewhere close to his core and it knew this was wrong. It knew it and yet the pleasure that intoxicated him inside and out refused to allow him to stop. There was a haziness, he could still feel demon hands around his neck and they drank him dry of morality. Of sense. Cas looked broken under his hands... no. _By his hands._ He was covered, splattered in blood and the thigh of his jeans ran moist with how aroused Cas was. He wanted to wrench the pikes from his wings, his beautiful, broken wings and help him down, mop up his blood and hold him until he stopped crying, but instead he went to his kit and took out a small ball of twine, cutting a piece off before tying it around the base of Cas' cock, to which the Angel of Thursdays bucked up, back arching, his feet scrambling, toes scraping the floor.

“W-what... Dean... no...” Dean ignored the protests and pulled himself closer, hot hands savouring every crease, every slice in the skin before him. Leaning in, he whispered deep in Castiel's ear, “Shh. I promise, it'll feel good. I want this to last as long as possible Angel,” watching Cas squirm under the voice, a mixture of hurt and softness that battled him for dominance. Castiel's hands went down to untie the twine, but pined when his hands were slapped away, his hair in an iron grip, his head cracking against the wall.

Through the spinning and blurriness he heard Dean's hiss that halted his struggle. “Try that again and I'll pin down your hands too.” Castiel warily eyed the knives laying discarded for the time being, his blood drying on the blades and hilts. “Promise me, Cas.” Dean's face nuzzled against Castiel's cheek and shame rose up and snaked through Cas, a tiny part of him screaming that this was all part of Dean's plan – to bring him to heel by showing care, affection – but then the other, needy part of him reached out for him, holding him around his shoulders half because he needed something other than pain, and half because he couldn't keep on his toes for much longer.

Dean moved away an inch and Castiel lost his grip, his feet sliding and his back running down the wall and even though he didn't fall that far, his wings took the weight of the rest of his body and hoarsely he gave in and screamed, the noise shattering the disconnected television. “Ah! I promise, I p-p-romise!”

Dean's arms coiled around him and he held on for dear life, crying as Dean held on, slowing down in his sobs when the pain in his wings had stopped being so sharp and faded into blurry agony that pricked at his eyes and hitched his breath. A hand reached around him, fondling the feathers jutting from his back, stroking the bones under the down and this time his whimper had an underlying purr of approval. This was how he imagined his wings being touched... like they were what they are: precious. The pressure made them twitch against their binding tools and they cried out noiselessly.

He was engorged, pushing hard back against the thigh in his groin, mewling, teeth sunk into his bottom lip. Dean gave a smug, low, singular laugh that was so unlike him and his fingernails raked down Cas' back, through feathers and into skin. The hands clutching at Dean's shirt clenched harder into fists and he moved furiously back and forth, trying to gain some form of contact; something to make it feel better. He felt hands on his ass, pulling the cheeks apart so that a wave of cool air dusted lightly across the crease, his body flexing at the alien feeling.

Castiel knew what was going to happen. He knew and yet it still hurt. It hurt and burned and he twisted against it, his wings overtaking the pain, fresh blood shed from between those huge soft feathers. There was sweat and blood and saliva easing the motion of Dean pressing into him and yet, it was still painful. His sliced thighs came up around the Winchester's waist, the only support for his weight now.

Dean had done this before, but those were mere lost souls, tortured and screaming and not even fully human any more. Out of body, out of mind. Castiel was the sight of pure ruined innocence beneath him, trapped against the wall, feathers fluttering in the air, blood pooling on the floor beneath him, eyes glassy and high; pupils the size of saucers as he panted, skin deathly pale against the flush of his cheeks, the bruising of his lips and the crimson clotting he wore so well. This was wanting at its best, wanting to feel anything other than pain and yet willing to endure more of the same. He felt almost human, but Dean could still feel power within him. His grace? Some thing pulling them closer, making this power exchange the greatest he'd ever had. The heat, the force of it took his breath away and he couldn't hold back, moving faster, every thrust complimented by a low grunt, his voice and Castiel's mixing in the air; a symphony, a musical orchestra that presented dominance and despair in its finest forms.

“D-Dean...” The Hunter grabbed at Castiel harder, dropping his step forward just slightly, his angle changing and he pulled back to see Cas' face.

“Ah!” The noise was cracked, broken, forcing its way from Castiel's throat because he simply had no power over his vocals any longer. There was something inside of him that Dean was finding with his cock every single time as it ran up his spine, played with his own dick, which by now was in agony. Dean's hand yanked in his hair, fingers scraping his scalp and he let out a sound that the Hunter found _divine_. He sped up, his own pleasure flooding his thoughts and he could think of nothing but what he was experiencing. Oh, he was getting closer, he could feel it. It built up and up like his heart rate and he was now slamming into Castiel with no tact whatsoever, but he could feel the Angel's desperation, the fingernails clawing at his back, the moans that just wouldn't stop, and his name. Dean, Dean, Dean. Over and over like it was the only thing Cas could say. He heard it somewhere in his mind that was taking a back seat. Like someone else was driving him, driving a hard lesson home for him and for Cas.

“Dean... Dean...” That voice was so strained, so rough against a burning throat. Castiel couldn't take it. With every single movement he cried, his face a mess of drying blood and salted tears, but he whined for more. This part of him, he decided, this human part of him was his ruin. He was spoiled, trashed. Nothing could bring back his purity and hope.

Dean seemed to sense his distress though and riding close himself, he fingered the knot of the twine lazily. Castiel saw with blurry eyes and clutched harder to him, his moans turning into whines, pleas.

“Beg for it Cas,” was Hell Dean's reply, and Cas didn't even hesitate. Instead, he hitched his useless legs up further, threw back his head and begged, the eyes before his drunk with power and lust. “Please... D-Dean... P-please let... let me...”

“Let... you... what?” Dean was making this quick, he couldn't hold back much longer. The pull of the Angel's power made every feeling more intense than the last, like nothing he had ever had, nothing he had ever felt.

“Let... p-please let me... let me come...” His voice was quiet, but Dean could not tell whether that was shame, or his throat had merely given up from so much screaming and pleading. Either way, it struck a chord of confusion deep inside of him. One the one hand, it urged him on, loving every low sound, yet on the other, he was feeling guilt. A hard hitting guilt that ate a tiny part of him, but was moving onto bigger meals. It grew inside him, festering like a wound and Castiel's fingers in his shoulders brought him back.

“Please...”

Dean tugged at the knot and moved his hands straight up behind the panting Angel. He reached for where the jutting bones slid back into Castiel's skin and fisted his hands there, waiting for the right second.

Then, he pulled. He tugged on the downy feathers running along the bone with such ferocity that a few came away in his hands, but it did what he wanted, his desired effect. Castiel's back arched off the wall, spikes tearing further into his wings and toes curling madly, a strangled cry leaving his throat in a gasp of air whilst he came, shaking, legs convulsing and wings flapping erratically, words in Enochian leaving him in gasps, in sobs, but Dean didn't understand what they meant. Dean felt so much pressure on his cock that he closed his eyes shut whilst he came, fingers leaving bruises down Castiel's sides, both of them panting, whilst they delved into the aftermath, Cas crying, Dean silent.

Dean pulled out and what he saw moved the mist from his eyes and he couldn't stop the pained noise that escaped him.

Castiel was limp, the knuckles of his toes pressing into the floor, wings spread, bloodied and speared, lips bruised and cracked, shoulders dropped, semen splattering his stomach, his thighs. Blood covered just about everything, feathers stuck everywhere. A mass of pale skin, sat underneath the human debris, pale but marked, bites down his neck, fingerprints down his ribs. He wasn't looking at Dean, but head tilted towards the floor, his face hidden beneath the concoction of blood and tears staining his face, clinging to every eyelash, his eyes looking heavy, sticky, his hair matted down and slick with sweat.

Castiel shuddered under the cold and felt something surround him. He couldn't tell what it was, but it was pulling the pikes from his wings, furling around him as he fell to the floor. It cloaked him so he no longer felt naked and when he opened his eyes, he saw that it was light. Bright and lashing over him like a waterfall, rushing into his head where he heard a sing song voice whisper to him.

“Clarity, child.”


	7. Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarity comes at our darkest moments, when we are most lost. A gift and a curse: a shard of many things for Castiel to keep. To have and to hold. Forever and ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the final chapter.  
> I don't own Supernatural.  
> I hope you enjoyed reading.  
> Feedback is always appreciated.

_But I loved him_ , Cas' mind mumbled back rather absently. _Why?_

“Human love is ephemeral. It lasts as long as it lasts and it corrupts, changes. I never wanted this for any of my children, but clarity comes at our darkest moments. I ask you to love my creations. Falling in love is exactly that: falling. I do not want you to fall Castiel, I will pick you back up and put you back together again, but you are my Son. It hurts me to see you hurt.”

The light became too bright for Castiel to open his eyes. He closed them and felt warmth, his Father, healing and helping him, the damage that Dean had created slowly fading under the beautiful heat. He felt high, soaring, complete.

“I'm sorry.” The words poured from the Angel's mouth without him even realising. He felt tears slide down his face, but they were golden, shining and glittering, from gratitude, not fear. _Lucifer_ , he realised in horror. Lucifer had been there to show him the consequences of his disobedience; the greatest betrayer was the perfect ally in his curse.

“Clarity is the greatest gift; but it can also be the greatest curse. This was not your punishment Son.”

“Then what? Why?”

The voice vanished. Castiel felt his grace return to him, a force that knocked all of the wind out of him in one fell swoop. He closed his eyes and let the grace overtake him.

Funny how falling can feel so much like flying at the same time.

-=-

There was a loud crash as Sam took out one of the demons with the knife. Castiel whirled around, the musty light of the warehouse replacing his Father's light. He didn't understand what was going on, he took in the chaos going on in front of his eyes and exorcised the demon that attacked him from the shadows with Angelic ease. He felt his grace crackling over him like a powerful static, trickling into the atmosphere and realised he was once again, part of the club that he felt most at home in.

He raised his head and saw Dean, those demonic fingers round his neck, choking the life from him, Sam to his right, struggling on the floor with the knife and he froze, watching Dean's feet kicking in the air, his voice strangled, his eyes rolling in their sockets.

“C-C-Cas!” He spluttered, his voice genuine, the slits of his eyes not giving away much but Cas knew from studying them for so long that they were his. No Hell fire, no sadism, nothing hidden in that deep green but the man that Dean really was. He couldn't move.

For a split second that seemed much longer than it should, Cas could feel the knife in his skin, the shattering pain that destroyed his wings, the screams tearing themselves from his throat as Dean fucked him without mercy, every inch of him quivering, lost in himself as Dean was losing too much air, his head spinning. He could feel every mark, every bruise as if it had happened; as if it was happening right now. His voice, his pleas, the uncontrollable waves of pleasure and pain that rushed over him. Not being able to hold back his whimpers, his moans, his cries. The blood, the sweat and the intense feeling of being whole and used as he spiralled into an orgasm that was practically torn from his body. It was there, it felt real. Castiel's wings were shuddering in their invisible form, trembling as they remembered the painful touch of Dean's blade, the pikes that held him down, Dean's touch in his most intimate areas: his vessel, his cock, his wings, his fingers tugging at feathers, pulling on bone. Fear brewed in his eyes only to be washed away by reality.

Castiel slammed his hand on the demon's head, listening to the scream as she collapsed in fiery light. He didn't mean to, but as Dean looked up from his fresh spot on the floor, they locked eyes, memories of pain and betrayal washing over Cas as he stood, unmoving, mouth dry and stomach cramping.

“What the hell Cas? Could've saved my ass earlier, you know?” He picked himself up and dusted off his jacket with one hand, leaning down to help Sam to his feet, who was sporting a rather large gash across one shoulder. He turned back to the Angel and started when he saw his face.

“Cas, what's wrong?” His eyes, his voice. His Dean was back. Castiel swallowed hard, his face giving away much more than he let on. He couldn't speak, his tongue felt heavy and useless in his mouth and he stayed, fixed by Dean's gaze. His grace buzzed over him and he felt somewhat comforted by the familiar feeling it gave him.

“Cas?” He felt Dean's hand on his shoulder, and he pulled away faster than he could think. Dean looked hurt for a minute before he stared, hard. He knew something wasn't right, something was different. His Angel was pulling away as though he was disgusted. As though Dean had done something that could never be forgiven, but Dean couldn't do that. They'd been through too much. They were too close. Though he never wanted to admit it aloud, he actually cared a lot for his nerdy Angel friend. He cared, and was thankful for all Castiel had done for him. Something had happened. Something was wrong. Dean didn't like it.

Cas stared back, his shoulder a burning reminder of how dangerous a single touch could be. It could make you who you are, or break everything you'd become. It could hurt for a thousand years, or simple seconds and the difference didn't matter. It could light up your world and make you never want anything else ever again, or it could eat into you like acid and corrode you from the inside out. It was a dangerous scale and that seemingly simple touch could spend you spiralling from one side to the next, afraid to stop, or stay, or move on.

This was how dangerous Dean's touch was and Castiel realised that Dean didn't even know it. He knew nothing. All the things he had done, things he had dreamed, all he had taken, he knew nothing of it. Nothing at all. He was safe, in his life, in his mind. Now whenever Cas went to escape from himself, he was confronted with those memories; however false, they still shook him from the inside out. The sheer cruelty, the agony, the loss of his innocence and the stain upon his grace. He was damaged. No longer created to perfection, but created to _know._ To remember and to obey.

“Cas?” His name. He name, in that voice. No, it wasn't the same as it had been, but it was still his name. Dean's pet name for him. The one he had come to love and actually associated with Dean himself. Now he couldn't hear it in the same way. It was in his ears, rushing over his heart, flooding his mind reminding him of a time when Dean had used his own name against him.

Castiel, Angel of Thursday's, Servant of the Lord, his Protector, knew from that moment that _this was his punishment_. To know all of Dean, his Hell and his world, to remember his pain and despair with perfect clarity and yet to live everyday like nothing had happened. Dean knew nothing and he knew _everything_. The memories of Dean that he had once held so dear, once treasured and kept safe were stained, ruined. Marred by pain and humiliation and the death of what was once something held so dear. In Dean's eyes, he could appreciate the beautiful green that was his Dean before a second later it was clouded over by memories

He had loved Dean like no other and the most horrible part of this punishment was that, he still did. He always would. Now his feelings were locked under tongue and key, kept to himself where they would burn with those memories, alone and afraid and Dean could _never_ know. It would eat him alive and forever scar his grace.

How many more scars could Dean give him without realising? His wings were tarred, clawed from fighting his way into Hell for his charge and now his grace was dipped in something evil, purity washed away. He didn't turn away though. His held that gaze that had broken him and lied, something that he despised, but he had no other choice.

“I'm fine. I'm... sorry.”

Dean reached out for him again, noticing again how Castiel pulled away, almost shrinking under that coat.

“This was, a bad idea. I will return when I am needed. You don't need me for any of this.” His voice was cold, the care he once had pulled back into the furthest reaches of his mind where it no longer manifest into hope and destroy him.

“Cas, seriously...”

The Angel turned and looked at the Hunter with everything that he had left and swallowed the noise that threatened to burst from his mouth. He wanted Dean to know, to see how much he had been torn apart. He wanted to scream it in his face, to show him what he had done, but of course, Dean wasn't the one that had done this. This was Castiel's doing; his punishment, his burden. But now, looking in those eyes, Cas _knew_. He loved him. He loved him and it wouldn't go away. It struck his grace and it burned with all of the anger Castiel could still feel inside him. This love would kill him. This love would eat him alive and Dean would never know. Love, Cas decided, was his downfall. Love had brought about Father's punishment and he deserved nothing less, he knew that, but he couldn't stop loving Dean.

He didn't know how to do anything else.

His voice shook. “I'm fine. I'll be in touch.”

And Cas left, his wings burning with phantom pain and returned to his heaven where he found that he could no longer cry. He wanted to; he could feel it, building up inside him but it had no climax, no release. He didn't know Dean stood after him, staring at the spot where he once stood, wishing for him to come back; for him to just be okay. He didn't see the hurt in Dean's eyes because he was cloaked in a veil of his own inner strife. He found himself full of anger when Balthazar appeared, looking at him with pity, which pissed Cas off even more.

“I'm sorry Castiel.”

The Angel did nothing more than stride up to him and grab him by the front of his shirt, rage flooding through him, anger unstoppable. He yanked Balthazar to within an inch of his face, practically spitting the words at him. “Don't dare feel sorry for me. This was my punishment, and I won't hear anything said. If you ever talk about any of this I will take an Angel Blade and it will be in your heart faster than either of us can stop it. Do you understand? I serve _Him_ , our Father and I will never disobey him again.” He dropped the shirt and took several steps back, looking almost unbelievably at Balthazar, like he didn't really comprehend he'd just done that.

The other Angel just looked at him, sympathy gone from his features. “So be it. But pushing everyone away won't change what you for the human, you know. Castiel, falling happens in more ways than one.”

Cas felt the air move as his friend left. Anger left him. Rage left him. Everything left him. Everything but _clarity_.

Clarity was his curse now. Clarity had ruined him and clarity would carry him over from despair to loneliness.

 _Father was right. Everything I was... so confused, so blurred. Seeing things the way they are hurts more than anything. But this is what Clarity is: shards of truth that stick fast, burning and destroying, but revealing. The bare bones of truth are the most tender, but Father knew that. To feel it, that tenderness, is God's gift and his punishment. Clarity shows all, even what we don't want to see. It forces eyes open even when we didn't ask for it._  

_Yes, Clarity has shown me that shards are all that are left. Unrequited pieces of truth that Dean will never know. This love, locked up now until time ceases to exist, this is a shard of my own; one to hold and keep close no matter how deep it cuts me. A reminder that the love for Father is worth everything. Worth more than the love for Dean... even though it hurts. You feel with your brain, not your heart, but there is a crushing in your chest that feels like your heart is dying. I'd die for him. I'd kill for him. I'd do anything. But I guess, that's just the problem isn't it? Father is all that I have left. He gave me everything. My wings. He gave me Dean, my order to bring him back, to remake him, to build him and show him that he has a purpose, he has a reason for being, even if it is to be my own reason for being. He gave me all that I am and I will never turn away. Those are my shards to have and to hold. 'Til Death do us part._

Castiel's mouth opened slightly as a single tear dropped to the ground.

  _God works in mysterious ways... and not all of them are miracles._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did warn everyone that this wasn't a fairytale. And sometimes, things like this don't have a happy ending.  
> But nevertheless, I hope you enjoyed this and hopefully the next Destiel fic I write won't be as heart breaking. Maybe a little, because I'm just like that, but maybe with a little more of a happy ending.  
> I am currently working on another fic, one with more heart.  
> I hope you liked this and that you might consider reading more of my work as it comes.  
> Kudos and feedback are always welcome, and I just want to thank everyone reading this for making it this far.  
> Thank you ever so much.


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